Fallen Star
by wouldbewriter23
Summary: No star is safe out of the sky. Stardust A.U. Full Summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

_"Are we human because we gaze at the stars? Or do we gaze at them, because we are human? Pointless, really. 'Do the stars gaze _**back**_?', now that's a question." (Opening scene of __**Stardust**__)_

**I know I have another stories that need my love, but I'm having selective writers block and this is an idea that's been niggling at me for so time. I read some fics that referred to Sandy as a shooting star, and it was like a lightning bolt of inspiration: Stardust A.U! For those of you who've seen the movie, there are a few things I've changed, mainly that there will be **_**no**_** romantic relationships. Sorry to disappoint, but my muse didn't go that way. **

**For those of you who **_**haven't**_** seen the movie, you've led an unfulfilled life and I pity you, but you should understand it regardless, I hope. Either way, enjoy and review if you please.**

**Full Summary: This was not turning out to be the best of days. First, he was knocked out of the sky, and the Moon told him he was Jack Frost. Then, he was dragged through all of creation by a grumpy rabbit-man named Aster, with rampant Winter powers running out of his control. And, to top it all of, there was the army of princes coming after him for the stone that knocked him out of the sky **– ** which a certain star with sticky fingers just had to grab **– ** that will give them the right to rule. Oh, and there's the crazed dark spirit determined to eat his heart hunting him down**

The elderly king of Stormhold lay on his bed trying to bring air into his lungs through wheezing breathes. He was fit man, well groomed and swaddled in an array of furs and fine silks from all corners of his kingdom. And he was only an hour, at best from what his physicians were saying, from death. With that in mind, he studied the five of his eight children in the room with him, frowning in thought. Standing over his bed were four of his six sons: Claude, Caleb, Pippen and James, and one of his two lovely daughters: little Sophia. His children were lacking in many, many areas; to be frank, they were total imbeciles, he thought gloomily. What a horrid predicament they'd put him in: on his deathbed with no clear heir with which he could entrust his throne. What was this foolishness? _He_ had no such problems at their age and he'd had _twelve_ brothers to deal with! They'd all been dead before their father felt so much as a cough, yet his sons couldn't even wheedle their numbers down properly. Still four out of the six standing, honestly. Oh well, not everyone could live up to such a legacy, he admitted in defeat, exhaling the tension in his shoulders as he continued to study them.

But damn, despite all their flaws, he had some good looking children. His sons all took after him in all the right ways: well-trimmed, fit figures with dark, luscious locks of brown hair and deep brown eyes. All perfect figures for the image of a king. And his daughters, his little princesses, were such beauties. Little Sophia, his youngest child, with her light hair and pretty green eyes, looked just a little too much like her mother. Though that didn't have the elegance of the look of him and his sons, Sophia's look had its own beauty. There was, after all, a reason that he'd married their mother, even though that women was so disgustingly full of will and opinions. Yes, though Sophia's light look sickeningly reminded him of her mother, she was still quite gorgeous. But his oldest child, Ana, was a true dark beauty. She had layers of hair that was the color of night and smooth, perfect skin that was like porcelain. Though she was not a prince, and therefore rather below his attention, she was almost like a mix of a very female version of him and a precious doll, and by extension, beautiful.

"Father," Pippen spoke up, breaking the king from his thoughts with the annoying shrilled voice of his, "should we not see to the matter of succession."

"Ana?" The king asked as he looked up at the boy, delirium projecting thoughts of his daughter onto his son.

Pippen scowled but put on a happy smile. If there was ever a time to suck up to his father, it was now—no matter how ill it made him to his stomach. Just think of the kingdom, he told himself firmly, keeping that smile in place.

"No, father. It's your son. Pippen."

"Oh," the king rolled his eyes, "And where is Ana? Where is your sister?"

"She's been missing for years, father. No need to start pretending to caring now," Sophia said from her position near the head of the grand bed, her expression sour.

"Hold your tongue, you insufferable little wench!" Pippen snarled, raising his hand to strike his younger sister as he moved forward. Whether he cared about his father or not, no _women_ would talk to him like that in his presence.

Sophia cringed and cowered against the headboard, bracing for the strike. But before Pippen's hand could meet the girl's cheek, a steely grip locked around his forearm. As Pippen looked over his shoulder, his gaze met the seething brown orbs of his youngest brother.

"Keep your hands off her," James said with a growl.

"Aww, growing a backbone are we, Jamie?"

Jamie pulled his teeth back in a snarl, arching his back in an attempt to seem taller and more threatening to his larger brother. The effort only made Pippen laugh and he easily tore his arm out of Jamie's grip. He shoved the younger prince back and Jamie moved to hit him when the king interrupted them.

"Now, now boys," the king broke off with a hacking cough, his whole body trembling with the force of it. "Pippen," he mock scolded when he got his breath back, still smiling.

"What?" the older prince asked, his face alight with feigned shock.

"You know tradition dictates the throne can only be passed to a _male_ heir," the king said with a small smile, focusing on his missing daughter rather than the small tussle between the boys.

"Yeah, I know. So why would you think I killed Ana? I still have these morons to take care of," he said with a wave at his brothers. Said morons all rolled their eyes in annoyance and insult.

The king laughed in approval, and Pippen sent a sneer at the other three princes. Score one for Pippen he all but shouted. The princess only rolled her eyes and edged away from the bed and the man lying on it with a scowl. She was surrounded by idiotic men and stuck with no power against any of it. Being a princess in this family sucked she thought, not for the first time, with a sigh.

"Now, that brings us to the predicament of my succession." The four princes leaned forward eagerly, "As you know, we have not had a problem, such as this, in many generations," the king wheezed, breathe passing with more and more difficulty.

"Father, why don't you just rest? This can wait until morning," Jamie said.

No matter how cruel this man was to his children, how he had never shown even the smallest shred of affection to any of them and encouraged that his sons kill each other, he was still Jamie's father and the youngest prince loved him. To see his father put himself under such strain was difficult to watch, and knowing that he would die this night tore his heart to shreds.

"It cannot," the king insisted and Jamie silenced himself. "As we have not faced, a predicament such as this in such a while, we will solve this matter, outside of the restraints of tradition."

The king paused again, trembling as death closed in on him. Determined to see this through to the end, the king forced his quivering hands to unclasp the ruby that hung low on his chest from the golden chain draped around his neck. The gem had been an heirloom of the kingdom for five generations, belonging to the very first king of his bloodline. Every king since had worn it, and so it seemed fitting that the stone should solve this particular problem. Forcing in air into his lungs for what he knew would be the last time, the elder mutter a spell over the gem, watching the beautiful deep red color drained from the ruby. With the now transparent stone hovering in front of his face, the king drew in what he knew would be his final breathe.

"Only he of my blood can restore the ruby. And the one who does so, shall, be, be the new king, of Stormhold." With the last of his breathe, the king blew over the stone, cementing the spell as he went limp and fell into death.

For a moment the room was silent, the four princes staring at the hovering stone in awe. It was encased in golden light, hovering over the body of their dead father like it was waiting for them. Pippen was the first to make a grab for it as the necklace suddenly dashed for the window. Claude stopped him with an elbow to the throat that knocked his older brother to his knees. Caleb shoved them both aside and Jamie dashed past them only to have Pippen latch onto his leg. He fell to the ground, pulling Caleb with him, then all four men were clambering over each and dashing after the stone as it zipped out the window and out of their reach, soaring ever higher into the sky as it flew across the kingdom.

"Well, what happens now?" Claude asked, leaning out of the window so he could gaze up at the sky to follow the stone.

Pippen scowled at the younger prince, rubbing his sore throat. Then his grinned, moved closer to Claude, and positioned his hand to hover over the small of Claude's back.

"Now it's a race to the stone. May the best man win." With that he shoved his hand into Claude's back, sending his brother over the edge of the window with a scream. And he laughed as he watched Claude's form disappear as it fell from the tallest tower of the castle.

Pippen smiled at his two remaining brothers, who had darted away from the window and safely out of reach. The two stared at him warily as he continued to laugh, "For my throat," he said down to where Claude had vanished, spitting to emphasis his distaste.

Then he gazed back up at where the stone was now just a streak of light in the sky. The other two princes flanked him to do the same. Pippen only looked their way to send Caleb a warning look as the man timidly lifted his hands to push him out, as well. When Caleb cowered appropriately, he directed his gaze back to the sky above. The three stood watching as the streak of light that was the stone became dimmer and dimmer.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

In the heavens above, the stars watched. Observing the world below them was all that there was to do, after all, and the death of a king of Stormhold was always a spectacle. As such, it drew the attention of almost every star in the sky. And so, almost every star witnessed the king's last act and saw the royal gem soaring toward them, wild magic pushing it far into the heavens. Unfortunately, the only star not watching these events was the only one the stone was hurtling toward. The brothers and sisters of this star could only watch as the stone continued its path of collision with the star before it.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

The young star was watching the other side of the world when the king of Stormhold took his last breathe. Below him, there were children playing in the snow, having fun as they laughed and played. It was nothing overly amazing, nothing world changing, mundane and ordinary but he was a young star; he'd hardly seen three hundred lives of men, and he liked to watch the simple things. He loved to watch children play, and families love. It filled him with great happiness that was, sadly, lost to many of the older stars.

When the stone struck him, at first he wasn't sure what happened. All he knew was that it hurt and he found it very annoying. But when he turned his attention to the source of the pain, a light that was brighter than anything he'd seen, even as a star, flashed around him. Then, he was torn from his place in the sky and he felt utter fear as he realized he was Falling. It terrified him, the feel as well as the idea of Falling. Knowing his life would never be the same if he survived – because dying as a result of a Fall was entirely possible, he knew – mixed with the sensation of the out of control free fall. The world below warped as it came closer, blurring around him in a streak of white and purple light.

And then, after a time that was both much too long and too short, he struck the ground. As the pain wracked through him, he saw the Earth shoot upward in a plume that blocked out the sky. The light that had surrounded him dimmed slowly, pulsing from his chest for a moment longer before fading all together. When everything cleared, the last of the light and the dust, he blinked up at the sky, where the stars looked down at him. And he had to laugh, because nothing ever looked _down_ on him; that was his job. The longer he sat there blinking, the more clear everything became. And the clearer it became, the less he wanted to laugh and the more he wanted to cry. His laugh died away and he choked on tears, afraid and confused and hurting from his landing. To keep the tears at bay– because he didn't know much about this new life, but he knew he didn't like crying, at all – he focused on his surroundings.

He looked up at the stars, at his family that he was so abruptly cut off from and that didn't help with his plan of not crying. So instead, he focused on him. If he turned his head to the side, he could see his hand, he had hands that was so weird! He couldn't force that hand to do anything though, it just stayed there, laying just a little higher than his head. It was cushioned in a fabric that was soft and silky to the touch, billowing and much like the color of a stormy day, turned up toward the sky with fingers that were curled into the palm ever so slightly. Frowning at that, he turned his focus else-where, thinking. It only made since that if he had a hand, he had a body that went with that hand, which was also very weird. But he couldn't see that body, because his head – head head head he had a head! A head complete with hair that was like moonlight and hanging in his eyes– wouldn't work any better than his hand. His body wasn't working at all so it was actually really boring, and he couldn't bring himself to look at the sky he'd been tossed out of. So, overall, his fight against crying wasn't working to well as he'd hoped.

He forced his head to the side – and hey, that actually worked!—to do something to not cry. And there just next to him, was a necklace. Deciding to keep his mind on that, he managed to force his hand to move and grab it, and he was very proud of that accomplishment. He grabbed the necklace and pulled it close, finding that he really liked the cool feel of the clear stone under his palm. He let out another laugh and looked back up at the sky, forgetting the sadness it brought him in the elation of making his hand work.

The heavens above were a deep midnight blue, appearing endless, something he knew to be perfectly true. The lights of his family shinned down mournfully to him, so remote and far away. Before the tears could well up again, the star's attention was drawn to the beautifully glowing orb of the moon. It hung over him, blocking out the rest of the sky with its light, big and bright and chasing away all the fear and pain of his Fall.

Then, the light of the moon fell over him, warm and soft, and the moon spoke to him. And he listened for a time before the light was gone, leaving him alone in the darkness of the world. His fight against not crying suddenly didn't seem so important. He drew the necklace to his chest and curled in on himself and let himself cry his sorrow to the sky above, where he longed to be with all his heart. When he was finally done, his throat raw and his nose stuffy, he looked back up at the sky, at the now silent moon, and thought about what he knew about his new life.

His name was Jack Frost, from what the moon had told him, and he had Fallen.

That was all, he thought and he let himself cry again.


	2. Chapter 2

A Fallen star always caused quite the stir among the few who could recognize one. Those precious few knew that the key to dealing with a star – for good or evil – was to get to it before anyone else could. No star in Stormhold went unnoticed for very long. The Fall of the star that would become Jack Frost was seen from miles around; it was just a streak of light across the sky to most of the world, but any who knew how to look realized what it truly was. The streak was accompanied by a gentle rumble, and when it passed over head, and the only two pairs of eyes watching at the time zipped up to the sky at the sound and widened. One in surprise and concern and the other in sick joy and hunger.

The first man who stared up at the star was unaware of the other set of eyes watching the same flash of light, hundreds of miles to the south. It was pure luck that he was baring witness to this rare spectacle of magic. He was a just factory worker on his break, and he'd decided to go up to one of the balconies for some fresh air. The man worked in the toy section of this towering factory and was deemed the floor manager by his fellow workers. While he loved what he did for a living, it could get a bit stuffy in there at times, so he'd decided to go to the balcony, relishing the cool air. And fate had given him the gift of seeing something that only happened once in a few hundred years, if that. He stood there watching the steak of purple and blue-white light for another moment before he dashed back into the workshop. The boss needed to know about this.

Mr. Nicholas St. North, just North to his friends, was the prosperous owner of this workshop, the most successful factory in Stormhold. While they primarily manufactured toys, North was a master of all crafts and dabbled in many mediums. His workers, all hand-picked and taught by the boss himself, made a number of fine cloths and fabrics, furniture, anything and everything the kingdom needed. As such, the products of North's 'workshop', as he called it, were highly desired throughout Stormhold. The high demand made him a very successful man, but it also made him a very busy one. Though North's primary responsibility was the manager of the workshop and his main task was over-seeing his workers, he also worked on new designs for his products, practically doubling his responsibilities. Oh yes, he enjoyed his work, he _loved_ it and the joy he brought to the young, but he was _busy_.

So the very first thing he thought was how annoying the interruption was when his worker burst into his office. North's jump of surprise had resulted in him ruining a very nice ice sculpture – it was supposed to be a flying train, kids throughout the kingdom would have loved it. Not only that, but they were approaching the busiest time of the year and he was neck deep in forms and designs that all desperately needed his attention. He did not have time for this nonsense! North communicated as much as the other man hurried him to the nearest window.

But the annoyance quickly faded when the worker, whom his memory finally identified as Phil, motioned to the sky. North stared in stunned silence at the light of the star as it faded and finally vanished when it hit the ground and as soon as he registered what that streak really was he was running at top speed – he was deceptively spry for such a large man – through his workshop. He needed to call the others, immediately!

"We're going to have company," he called over his shoulder as he went.

Phil nodded, though North couldn't see it, and moved to make the preparations for the upcoming guests. They would likely be here for quite some time.

The thing that few outside a trusted number inside his workshop knew about North was that the man was more than just a successful business man. Nicholas St. North was one the Guardians of Magic and while the four of them watched over all magic, they specialized in the protection of Fallen stars. The young, innocent new life of a star on earth was always in danger, and as such they needed protection far more than any other form of life.

North winced in concern as he finally made his way to the switch that would call his friends, his colleagues. He pulled it, twisted it and slammed it down, sending flashes of colorful light through the sky. To the non-magical eye, the night sky looked like it did any other night, just dark with twinkle of star light. But to the Guardians and others of the magic world, the sky was lit up like the day in a rainbow of colored-streams, and their meaning was impossible to miss. North folded his hands and sat back; it wouldn't be long before they arrived.

He just hoped they arrived and could be brought up to speed before someone else found that helpless star.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

Far to the south, almost a half a world away, another set of magic eyes watched as that same trail of light from the star disappeared from sight. His heart, which he had begun to believe was long dead, pumped with excitement at the sight and a grin lit his face for the first time in centuries. Finally…..

His stomach all but growled in hunger as he whirled back around and hobbled back into his lair. Hobbling was all he could do now, he though as a frown wiped away the demented happy grin, had been for a long while. Five hundred years. For five. Hundred. _Years_, he'd been forced to endure this. Forced to watch as his skin withered and his strength waned, unable to do more than sit by idly as his body died around him. But not for much longer, he thought firmly, craning his head back to cast a look up to the sky even though his roof blocked it from view now. Not for very much longer at all.

The pathetic husk that was once one of the greatest spirits the world had to offer finally made his way to his supplies. He shuffled through the disorder as he searched for a shadow candle. It was a mode of transportation of his own design, allowing him to travel through the shadows to anywhere he desired with just a thought. If he could find it through all this clutter, that was. Discarded papers with various spells scribbled on them, experimental charms that hadn't panned out, animal bones from rituals for his few spells that _had_ worked. How had he lived this way all these years? It was a pig pen, he thought in disgust as he searched. It reeked of death and was filled with knee-deep trash. The moment he finished with that star, he was going to fix the disarray he'd allowed his lair to fall into. If he could just find that candle!

Then the answer hit him and he almost sank to the ground in despair: he'd used the last of them, nearly two hundred years ago. The spirit rested his head against the cool surface of the table, letting a disappointed groan slip through his lips. Now what was he going to do? He snarled at the weakness of that thought and used the anger to pull himself together. Think clearly you worm, he chastised himself. He'd waited centuries for this moment. If he had to spend a few more days making his way to the star by foot, then so be it. He was going to need what was left of the last star if he was going about it that way, though. He sighed at that, but quickly pushed aside his disappointment. He'd been saving the last of the star for a special occasion, and he supposed it didn't get much more special than this. Resolved, he made his way over to the ornate box that held the remains.

The box was made of precious black stone, designed from the pressurized glass-rock created in the aftermath of a star's landing. Its only purpose was to contain remains of such a being, and it was the only material in the world that could do so. The stone responded only to his magic, opened only by his hands. He lifted the lid slowly and deliberately, trying to bite back his excitement as he gazed at where his prize was nestled inside. There wasn't much of it left; barely a handful of beautiful, pure white light. No matter, it would do for now and soon, soon he'd have more than he could even imagine. The thought sent a thrill through him and the spirit let out a groan of anticipation as he grasped the palm-full of light. A jolt of Fear shot down his spine when the light came in contact with the skin of his hand – fear of pain and of death and the final cry of a being's last, horrific few moments of life– the spirit shivered in delight, tucking his hand to his chest. He limped to the nearest mirror as quickly as he could grinning like mad. Normally he avoided the reflective surfaces, disgusted with the reflection that would flash back at him, but he wanted to see this.

The being that stared back at him from the mirror was a shell of what he'd once been. It was a hunched, shriveled sack of wrinkled grey skin wrapped loosely in a black robe. His back had curled in on itself long ago, forcing him to stoop in on himself. His skin had dried up like a prune in the sun, it was a miracle it even stayed attached to his bones; his hair hung off his head in a light wisp, leaving him almost entirely bald save for a few dark strands. He sneered at the reflection. This husk he'd become was pathetic, a decrepit disgrace to his legacy. But now, he decided looking down at the ball of light cupped in his fist, now was the time to change that. With no further thought of hesitation, the spirit brought the light to his mouth and let it slide down his throat. The effect was immediate.

He let out a breathy sigh of bliss as the sense of Fear and magic flowed through him in a warm glow and he straightened to his full height for the first time in decades. He watched with a smile as a new crop of hair spilled out over his head, full and deep black, curling at the base of his neck. His skin smoothed out, though it was still pale grey, and was pulled tight over sharp cheek bones and a long nose, framing a pair of silver-gold eyes. His eyes were the only things that had stayed the same over the long years. They held power and age and wisdom of the centuries in their depths. The spirit smiled at his reflection this time, showing a mouthful of white, pointed teeth.

Now this is who he was. This was Pitch Black.

He ran a hand through his hair, trailed his fingers over his smoothed skin, his smile growing all the while. He would be this way forever more, he promised himself. On that note, he needed to find that star. Humming at that thought, Pitch stopping preening over his revived face long enough to place a long finger on the cool surface of the mirror. He poured his will into the glass and smiled as the surface began to ripple. Ah magic, it was so _good_ to have magic again, he thought with another grin. The mirror shimmered once more and his reflection fell away. In place of his likeness was a crater, the crumpled, sleeping form of the star at its center. Interesting, the star was a boy this time. He was a young teenager, a little slip of a thing with a head of messy white hair and fresh face.

"How sweet," Pitch murmured as he watched the boy sleep in the rest of the truly innocent.

He placed his full hand over the boy's visage, closing his eyes and willing his location to come to him. Pitch only received a vague answer: a hundred miles away. He would need his ruins for a more specific location. He could work with that.

Pitch gazed at the boy-star for another moment. He really was sweet, quite a lovely little thing. It was almost a shame.

"Enjoy the world while you can, little boy," Pitch said with a grin. "You won't be part of it for much longer."

He twirled away with a rustle of cloth, determination and hunger shinning in his eyes.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

North paced uneasily as he waited for his friends to arrive. All the workers but a select few who knew of North's second calling, Phil among them, had been sent away for the meeting. But it wasn't the threat of discovery that had the big man so restless; it was the danger to the other Guardians that came with these very rare meetings. North ran a nervous hand through his hair and shot another look at the window as he continued his pacing. He could think of so many things that could go wrong on the way from each of the other Guardians' respective homes to his workshop. So many of their enemies who would go after them at their most vulnerable as much as they would any Fallen star. Two in particular were at more risk than any of the others, North thought as he sent a third look in as many seconds out the window. When he saw the approaching glow of familiar golden light, the man almost went to jelly with relief. He smiled brightly at the little golden man who flew through the window, and sent the same look to the lanky teen that followed him.

Sandy and Nightlight were here, and more importantly, they were safe. The majority of the anxiety lifted from his tightened chest; North didn't think concern for the Fallen stars troubled him so ever since he saw that streak of light, but apparently it had weighed on him more than he thought. Nightlight and Sandy were the first Guardians of the team. They were both stars who had both Fallen when the earth was still young, and had watched the roots of humanity grow and bloom, watched Stormhold grow from little more than a speck of a village to a great empire. They'd watched the highs and lows of the world, the light and the dark. And after watching far too many of their kin die at that hands of greedy humans and dark spirits alike over the long years, the two had formed the Guardians to protect themselves and others of their kind.

Nightlight, the oldest of the Guardians ironically given his youthful appearance, was gifted with the power over light itself. He was fragile in appearance with the long limbs that looked like twigs and a slim torso of a youthful growth spurt. His face was young with sharp angles, looking no older than sixteen despite his head of wild white hair. The boy-spirit's eyes were the only thing that represented his true age. They were a remarkable shade of grey, displaying knowledge of millennium both in the sky and on the earth. His power over light surrounded him in an ever present glow of starlight that had a soothing effect on anyone who came into contact with him. It made his involvement in Guardian affairs imperative, no matter how rare such occasions had to be for the boy's protection.

North placed a hand on the star's slim shoulder and Nightlight's glow kick up another level in response, his power further soothing the fear in North's gut. The big man gave the shoulder under his hand a squeeze and gave Sandy another smile, expressing his relief to see them both safe. The little man flashed him a thumbs up and North cracked an amused grin.

Sandy, or Sanderson Mansnoozie as he was much more rarely known, had gifts similar to his elder kinsman. The golden light haloed around the little man and decorated his skin was just as calming as Nightlight's white starlight, only Sandy's particular glow had the tendency to calm people to the point that they fell into deep sleep. The little man also had the ability to shape dreams, something that came in handy for comforting the traumatized victims of dark magic users.

The two were by far the most valued members of the Guardians, and as such were under more constant threat than any of their colleges.

North was relieved beyond words to see them both safe. And, seeing as the two never had much use for words – North had heard Nightlight speak perhaps twice in their long friendship and had never heard Sandy speak so much as a word – no such thing was needed. The two flashed their lights to express their understanding and joy and North gave them a smile in return.

The big man placed on hand on the small of Nightlight's back and reached up to place the other on Sandy's shoulder as he led his friends deeper through the workshop and to one of the primary sitting/break-rooms. Once the two were settled and their treats of cookies and eggnog – a favorite of Sandy, in particular – had been distributed, North went back to wait for their final member. If he decided to come, that is, there was about a fifty-fifty chance on that. But North didn't have to wait much longer before the sounds of cursing and complaints reached his ears. He smiled and shook his head, turning to face the source of the angry complaints.

"Bloody freezing. Can't feel my feet!"

"Bunny!" Said spirit jumped when North slapped him on the furry shoulder. "Is good to see you, my friend!" North went on, ignoring the way the Pooka whipped around in shock and the glare sent his way.

"Bloody hell, North," Bunny muttered as he clutched his chest in an attempt to keep his heart in his ribcage where it belonged. The big man only chuckled and looked the rabbit-spirit over.

E. Aster Bunnymund was the latest addition to the Guardians, brought on via rescue from the slaughter of his people several years earlier. The Pookas were a tribe of shape-shifting rabbit-like spirits, immortal beings linked to magic in its oldest form. They were the traditional guardians of the stars. Sadly, that connection led them to the unfortunate fate shared by many of their Fallen charges. North remembered the day with sickening clarity. Nightlight and Sandy had both received distress signals from their furred protectors. The three had set out as soon as they realized the danger, but by the time they'd arrived to the desperate call for help, Aster was the only one left alive. The Pooka was little more than a child at the time. North had found him by sheer chance, barely more than a ball of grey fur and saved because he was nestled in a pile of mangled bodies. North shuttered at the memory, thinking of those haunted green eyes and terrified young face. It had taken time, long and painful decades of support, but the grey rabbit-man was beginning to recover from that trauma; there was a time, North mused, not too long ago that Aster would have just stayed buried in his Warren and ignored the summons until the other three Guardians had to track him down.

"This better be good, North. Why do ya have ta live up in this frozen waste land?" Aster complained, drawing North out of his recollection.

"Is good to see you," he said again in a gentler tone this time, giving Aster's shoulder a squeeze. "And yes, is good reason. I would not have called you here if it were not. Come, I will explain." North steered the rabbit toward the sitting room with Nightlight and Sandy.

Upon seeing the two lounging in the room, the tension in Aster's shoulders disappeared. North hadn't been the only one worried about their older colleges. North smiled and patted his shoulder once more before moving to the center of the room to the three in the eye.

"So, what is it that's so important, Nikki?" Aster jabbed as he sat between Sandy and Nightlight.

As the two stars were never much for conversation, Aster and North often took to banter to break the icy silence that could often fall over the group. A jab with their respective irritating nicknames was usually the way they sparked such banter. This time, North just gave him a serious look and Aster fell into a nervous silence. Something was very, very wrong.

"A star has Fallen." Even though no one was speaking, the shock that fell over the room after the statement was too heavy to be normal silence.

Sandy and Nightlight exchanged nervous looks. The way that their lights flashed showed that they were close to full blown panic. Aster sighed and pulled at his ears in distress. Not good, not good at all.

"When?" Aster asked after a moment, all traces of the teasing atmosphere gone from his tone.

"Shortly before I called you here."

"And yer sure?"

"It flew right over my home."

At that, Sandy perked up waving his hand over his windblown head of blonde hair for attention. A map formed out of the golden light over his head, followed by a question mark. _'Do you know where?'_

"No," North said in reply.

"Which why ya called us here?" When North nodded, Aster went on, "We goin' as a group?"

"No. The four of us all at once will draw too much attention to the star."

"Agreed. Ah'll go," Aster said after a beat.

All eyes swiveled to the rabbit, full of varying degrees of shock and concern.

"We can't ask you to do that," Nightlight spoke up, the use of his rarely heard voice displaying his concern. Until just a few years ago, they couldn't even have asked Aster to venture out of his home. Nightlight was not overly eager to destroy that progress by pushing Aster too fast. "You know who we can expect out there."

Aster went cold, "Pitch," he said in both agreement and dread. Just saying the name brought the memories of fire and screaming and _blood, so much blood_—Aster shook himself harshly, determined to stay strong on this. "Ah know, that's why it hasta be me."

"Bunny—"

"North, ya can't track stars. It hasta be one of the three of us, an' Ah am not letting one of those two out there 'lone!" Aster made a jerking motion to Nightlight and Sandy. "We're not puttin' more victims out there, 'specially with Pitch runnin' around. It hasta be me and Ah'll be skinned before Ah leave a star defenseless out there." Never again, Aster added to himself as he stared each of his friends down, almost daring them to speak against him.

"Are you sure of this, my friend?" North asked, meeting Aster's stare steadily.

"Ah'm sure."

"Then all I can ask it that you be safe, Aster."

Aster jolted at the use of his real name but smiled. He had to do this, he _needed_ to do this, and he was happy for the support.

"Bring our brother back safe," Nightlight threw in with Sandy giving a nod beside him.

Aster grinned in response, "Don' worry. Ah'll grab the kid and pop back before ya can take a breath."

"Quick as a bunny?" North teased with twinkle in his eye.

Aster face blanked for a moment before he scowled at his friend.

"Ha, ha. Real cute, North."

He dismissed the big man after that and pushed his concentration out into the world as he scented the air. The presence of a newly Fallen star was like a bolt of electricity in the air. Aster and his people were uniquely equipped to pick up on that charge, and it didn't take him long to pin-point the location.

"Got 'im. Ah'll see ya in a jiff," Aster declared and with no further hesitation, he tapped his foot twice against the floor. In an instant a tunnel opened in the hardwood floor, and Aster leaped down, giving a grin at North's complaint about the damage to his floor as he went. Served the man right, Aster thought triumphantly.

North grumbled as he watched the hole close up, leaving a single bloom in its place. The man hated it when Aster opened one of his tunnels in the workshop. They left such unseemly dips in his floor.

Then he sighed as the annoyance turned to wariness. North had a feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as grabbing the star and just jumping back to the workshop. He felt that it was going to be much more complicated than that. In his belly.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

Jack stirred awake slowly and blinked groggily up at the sky. He swallowed the lump in his throat at the wrongness of that and levered himself up with his elbows. He took a deep breath and rubbed at the dried tears on his cheeks as he sniffled. He really didn't like crying, Jack decided, it made him feel stuffy and tired even though he'd just woken up. He took in another lungful of air and let it out with a quiet 'whoosh'.

The weight of the stone his hand brought Jack's attention to the necklace that had knocked him out the sky. The stone was clear, completely transparent and fit snugly in his palm with a golden chain so long it nearly touched the ground. He wanted to hate it, this little thing that had banished him from his home and everything he'd ever known. He wanted to hate it and throw it to the side and curl back up to cry again. Instead, he slipped the stone around his neck and let it hang low on his chest. Then he looked back up at the sky and the twinkling light of his family. He wasn't going to get home just sitting in this hole, he told himself firmly.

With that thought, Jack climbed to his feet, and found that action was much easier said than done. He managed to get upright, but as soon as he was standing he nearly went back to his knees when a sharp pain went up his, his—what was that dangly thing used for standing called again? Leg! His leg hurt. Oh did his leg hurt, Jack noted with a wince. It was a dull, grinding ache from his hip to his knee. He much have hurt it, maybe landed on it wrong, during his Fall. He didn't think he would be able to move on that leg. Jack frowned and shifted the aching limb experimentally. Then he took a tiny step forward and winced as the pain nearly tripled. Despite the increased ache, Jack managed to take another step. And then another. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't very fast, but Jack finally managed to shuffle his way to the edge of the crater.

"Piece, of cake," Jack panted through the pain flaring up and down his leg.

Jack was just starting to make his slow, painful way up the incline when he turned toward the sound of rumblings to his left. He watched a hole open up in the center of his crater and a pair of long, furry ears poke out. Then Jack gave a cry as he was thrown off his feet by a blast of blinding white light. He rapped his head against the crater wall and groaned when stars flashed behind his eye lids. Heh, stars, that was funny.

"Crikey, what was that?"

Jack shook his head to clear his vision and held the bump on the back of his head as he peered toward the source of the voice. Huh, that was weird. Jack didn't think rabbits got that big in Stormhold. But no matter how weird it seemed, that was indeed a rabbit lying a few feet away from Jack and rubbing its own head. Apparently the rabbit had been knocked down by the same blast of light Jack had. The star blinked rapidly in an attempt to fix whatever was wrong with his eyes and making him see giant rabbits as said giant rabbit climbed back to its feet. Then Jack tried to shrink into the rock as the rabbit's eyes locked on him and the thing started forward.

"Ya the star?"

Oh good heaven, it talked, too. "What are _you_?" Jack asked back, too stunned to think of much else to ask.

"Name's Aster. Everything else will be explain later, kit. Right now, we gotta get ya safe."

"Whoa, hey!" Jack cried in surprise and light pain as the rabbit – Aster, Jack corrected – jerked him to his feet and then tucked Jack to his furry chest.

"Just hang tight, kit. Ya'll be okay."

Aster tapped his large foot against the ground and concentrated on summoning another tunnel. He had to get this kid back to the workshop as quickly as possible. The heavens above only knew how many dark spirits were on their way to the star. But instead of a magically created hole appearing, another explosion of light blasted them apart, this time with an accompanying crackle of ice and frost. Aster groaned and rubbed his tender tail bone and heard the star-kit yelp unhappily across the way.

"Will you stop that?!" Jack snapped, close to tears as the pain from his leg mixed with the new ache in his head.

"It's not me!" Aster yelled back.

The Pooka shivered and rubbed his arms in an attempt to warm up. At the feel of frost on his fur, Aster looked down to see that there was indeed icy particles decorating his chest. He scowled in thought and looked up, tracing the trail of frost lining the ground. The trail ended where the star was sprawled on the ground. And Aster's jaw popped open when the answer hit him.

"Winter magic? Yer the first star in history ta develop elemental magic an' ya get _Winter_ magic?!" Aster groaned and rubbed his face.

"Look, I don't know what you're rambling about, but I don't care. So just leave me alone."

Jack stalked away the best he could on his bad leg. Aster caught up with no problem and brought Jack to halt with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Look, my normal transport's outta commission, so we'll need ta walk it," the rabbit man said as he pulled Jack toward the edge of the crater.

"Are you crazy, I'm not going anywhere with you!" Jack jerked his arm free to illustrate his point. "I'm going home,"

"There is no goin' home, ankle-biter. And yer not safe on yer own. We gotta go."

Jack stumbled away before Aster could grab him again. The Pooka gave an annoyed huff and darted forward, snatching both of the boy's skinny arms this time. Jack twisted and gave an angry shout as he flailed.

"Yer not gonna make this easy, are ya?" A painful kick to the leg was his answer. Aster sighed and shifted his grip around Jack's midsection so he could toss the squirming teen over his shoulder.

"Hey! Put me down! Put me down, right now!" Jack pounded on Aster's lower back and kicked madly, screaming for his release at the top of his lungs all the while.

Aster folded his ears tight to his head to guard against the noise. The kid sure had a set of lungs, he thought and sighed. Without his tunnels, it would take almost a week to get back to the workshop. Aster winced, both at the crushing realization and the stab of pain in his eardrums when the star's shout went up another octave. It was going to be a long journey home.


End file.
